the same place
by claysnail
Summary: In the rustling shade of a great tree, those precious, gentle words are spoken.


End of September, 1998.

"A walk?" she grumbles from her comfortable position on her bed. "Why?"

"Because it's a nice day," states Mikiya, as if it was the most obvious thing in the whole world.

Shiki glares at him and sits up. "I can see that. I'm asking -"

She pulls irritably at a crease in her sheets. She glances out the window and then glances at him, already standing and sipping from a bottle of water (which he took from _her_ fridge, of course).

"- why it has to be _now_. I..."

"Come on, Shiki. I know you don't have a good excuse." She doesn't. He's smiling an infuriating kind of smile and extending a hand to help her up. "It'll be worth it, I promise."

As soon as he pulls this card on her, he's already won, and he's aware of it. She huffs and lets him tug her up, momentarily surprised by the warmth of his hand, but he has already let go. It is transient; she wonders if it will ever happen again. (She doesn't know yet that it will.)

They head out. The air is warm with the last vestiges of summer, but cooler days will replace this soon enough. It's been a couple of weeks after the Fujou Building incidents came to an end. For Shiki, this is marked simply by the return of Mikiya's consciousness rather than any closure regarding the murdered girls and the sombre end of Fujou Kirie herself. She feels very little when she thinks of them; perhaps mild disgust and a sort of pity at most. But then she thinks of the empty shell of him lying inanimate on Touko's sofa, a memory that is still too close for comfort, and feels momentary anger followed by a shocking surge of relief.

She glances at Mikiya, walking a little ways ahead of her, and traces her eyes around his slim back. Confused, she looks away and focuses on walking. _What the hell is going on with me?_

Mikiya's voice interrupts her thoughts. "See, isn't this nice, once in a while?"

She makes a sound in response, carefully tuned to carry just enough disinterest. She sees in her periphery how he looks a little lonely - like he wants to say something, but doesn't; like he's waiting for her to say something instead. There is a distance between them that is tangible and she cannot bring herself to breach it. She cannot be gentle. She cannot give back. Not yet. Not when she still doesn't understand herself and the cloud of empty grief from SHIKI's death.  
This gnaws at her quietly as they walk; walking together, but at the same time, not.

They eventually reach a park which is not overgrown but a little wilder than others. Among shrubs and nestled lines of trees they find a slight hill where the grass seems a little greener and a breeze wafts through the air. There is a single great oak there, tall and proud, spreading its canopy of leaves all around and bathing in the sun. A bench perches below it, in the shade, so purposefully placed for a day like this.

It is beautiful.

Shiki follows him up the gentle slope, slowly, heart in her mouth for some bizarre reason. It feels like she is walking through some kind of gateway and entering a place which will be steeped in importance for her. It is like a passage into a sacred place where no one else may step.

"Mikiya," she calls.

He turns and looks at her. She doesn't call him by that name that often (not yet), so he looks a little surprised.

She pauses and finally says, "Slow down." The words are not right; they don't communicate what she is feeling, but he laughs quietly and eases his pace so she can catch up.

They reach the tree in silence. Mikiya breathes in deep, then breathes out; his eyes are closed. He looks so peaceful and she envies him. _I want..._ Her hands twitch at her sides. _What do I want?_ she wonders. _Why is this so important, anyway?_

He settles down on the bench.

"Shiki," he says. "Do you want to sit?"

She shakes her head slowly. "I'm fine." A bitterness clings to her tongue.

"All right."

She leans back against the sturdy trunk of the tree behind him, close enough to see the wrinkles in his shirt. She swallows. The air is warm and cool all at once and she watches him look up into the branches of the tree, leaves swaying and rustling in the breeze. The scene is beautiful, but it is his indescribable presence within it which makes it sacred. She wants this, she realizes, though she isn't sure exactly why. She wants this to continue indefinitely; a moment of peace and fragility with someone like him, glowing in the gloom of her mind. It is a star in the lonely pall of her existence.

But she knows it will pass. A moment cannot be grasped in one's palm like a knife. It _will_ end. It is futile.

This is something she cannot have. Intense sorrow blooms beneath her ribs.

She steps forward; her mouth opens; she speaks. She breaks the moment and it shatters by her feet.

"Sometimes..."

Mikiya turns his head just slightly so that she knows he's listening.

"Sometimes, I get scared, that... This, this will disappear." She looks far into the distance; her voice sounds strange and defeated to her own ears. A flock of birds scatters through the sky.

"I thought I knew already, that I can't have it," she says. "But I'm still scared it will be gone."

"Shiki."

She is now standing just behind the bench, on his right. He fiddles with his hands as he responds. "It's okay to be scared. But I don't think it will disappear. I don't think you can't have it."

He looks up at her, shadow and light playing across his kind, smiling face.

"Someday, we'll be in the same place." His gaze softens. "I've believed that for a long time."

A voice within her tells her, _Burn this into your mind. Memorize it. Engrave this moment into your very being, for someone has just spoken the words you have always wanted to hear._

Before she knows it, she is smiling back at him, just slightly.

And then it is over and it is time for them to head back. Shiki feels dazed but so relieved, because his words do not disappear. The sight of dappled light in his muted blue eyes does not fade. She is relieved, and locks the hopeful memory away, carefully, for a time when she will need it the most.

When that time comes, the pain of that memory more than any other becomes the strength in her vengeful arm as she brings the knife down. _It is futile. It has ended. He is gone._

She cuts, and she cuts, and she cuts. She stares at the pieces of her enemy and feels nothing. There is nothing.

* * *

Somehow, they survived. Many months later, they find themselves walking together in the same park, the air warm with the last vestiges of summer. Their hands are clasped, Mikiya leaning slightly on Shiki because it's a longer walk and it's hard for him. When they pass through the invisible gate and see the tree, they fall silent. Slowly, they make their way up the easy slope.

"Remember what you told me, here?" she asks him.

He nods.

"To tell you the truth, I was scared too." There are stars in his muted blue eye. "Really scared."

"It's okay to be scared, Mikiya," she replies, softly.

Standing in the same place, they share a sad smile. She pulls him gently to the bench. He sits; she, too, sits beside him. Something feels endless about the dappled light coming through the leaves above. It is fragile and unceasing. They feel the breeze on their skin and watch a flock of birds scatter through the sky: two lonely people, finally in the same place.


End file.
